


Lusty Alternian Maid

by neurotoxins



Category: Homestuck
Genre: Ball Gag, Dom John, Humiliation, M/M, Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot, Spanking, maid outfit, minor pet play, nook/bulge
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-06-05
Updated: 2016-06-05
Packaged: 2018-07-12 07:37:01
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,351
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7092499
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/neurotoxins/pseuds/neurotoxins
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Karkat's a slut for humiliation. Some really old writing of mine.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Lusty Alternian Maid

**Author's Note:**

> I wrote this in 2012 and I don't totally loathe it so I decided to dump it here, haha. Enjoy or don't.

“Get into the maid outfit, Karkat.”

Your name is Karkat Vantas, and you love being humiliated by your matesprit. Anything he decided to do to you was never enough - you needed more. Every day was a new opportunity to find something that got you flustered; it had sort of turned into a game for the two of you.

Painting the claws on your feet blue with little green slime patterns was the first step he had taken with you. If anyone else saw that, why, it’d be utterly _humiliating!_  … And you decided you liked the feeling while sleepily passing Harley in the halls one evening on your way to the load gaper, clad only in your baggy sweater and crab-print boxers.  
  
“Karkat, is that… John’s been painting your toes, hasn’t he?”  
  
Your reply was to turn a deep crimson and bolt out of there as fast as you could while she watched you with a grin. She was probably in on it, too; those conniving bastards.

 

The second thing he’d done was replaced all of your boxers around your respiteblock with thongs, so you had no choice but to wear one. The entire day, it felt like you had a wedgie, and your ass felt exposed, and it was… Humiliating. Even more so when John undressed you later that night and teased you for wearing it: “Wow, Karkat, I didn’t know you liked to wear such _revealing_  undies!” The giggling moron knew good and well what he had done and it was supposed to be embarrassing and you weren’t supposed to fucking _like it at all_. But you did, and you couldn’t help it, and ways in which John could further humiliate you always clouded your think pan.

 And then, of course, there were the things he did in the bedroom with you. The way he’d make you beg and respond to his dirty talk. The way he’d tie you up or gag you, not let you do anything without his permission, and even slap you if you talked out of turn or tried to argue with him. You knew you could easily overpower him; after all, trolls were built to hunt. You guess that just made it all the more shameful and, god, how you longed for more.

 

When John shoved the frilly black and red maid outfit at you, all you could do was stand there and feel your body temperature rise in embarrassment.  
  
“Well? Don’t make me say it twice,” he warned, grinning at you and _goddamn him and that smile and those awful blue eyes_.

The more you stared at the hideous assembly of fabric, the more ridiculous it became. John surely put a lot of effort into finding something like this: short-cut, skimpy as it could possibly get, and, as a finishing touch, the fabric that was traditionally white in a maid outfit was eerily similar to the color of your blood. You flushed at this realization and turned away from him to put the grotesque garment on in private, but John placed a hand on your shoulder before you could do so.

“Where do you think you’re going?” he questioned.  
  
“Where the fuck else would I be going, bulgebreath? I’m going to put this pathetic excuse of 'clothing' on, _your majesty,_ ” you rebutted as if it was the most obvious thing in the world.  
  
“Then why are you leaving?”

   
You didn’t have an answer for that. Well, you suppose you did, but it wasn’t a good enough reason to give John. You wanted to be the first to see yourself in the outfit. You wanted to make sure you looked good enough for him before he saw.

“C’mon, Karkat. I know what you’re thinking, but you’re always sexy to me,” he encouraged.

You hated being an open book to John. It just served to further your confused state of mind. Ah, fuck it. You felt the tips of your auricular sponge clots turn red as you slowly stripped in front of him, taking your time with removing each article of clothing. You had to show him _some_ sort of resistance so your dignity could remain intact, even though you wanted nothing more than to put on that stupid little dress and let him do whatever the fuck he pleased to you.  
  
“Karkat,” he breathed, giving you this fucking magnificent _needy_ look that you wanted to snapshot, frame, and get off to later. You guess that meant he wanted you to go faster, but fuck him, this was on your own time. You turned around, making sure that your ass was in his face before shimmying out of your pants, and _holy shit did he just gasp?_  Too rich.

“Stop being such a tease,” he replied to your little show with a swift smack to your ass, eliciting a surprised yelp from you. You felt the skin he slapped reddening already, and you shot him a glare.

“No, you know what? _You’re_ the one making me wear this unholy abomination – which, by the way, do any actual _maids_ wear these fucking things? Because I sure as shit haven’t seen anyone that does housework for a living wear one of these. In fact, the only people they’re worn by, I’m pretty sure, are earth females looking to spew their putrid genetic material all over someone! So you can learn to deal with my fucking ‘teases’, or you can get the fuck out!”

When you realized what you had done, it was far too late.

 “Karkat, put it on. You’ve made me say it twice now. We’ll deal with your punishment soon.” John looked angry, but you knew he was probably rock-hard from thinking about what he was going to do to you. You shudder and get to work putting on the dress, deciding you’d delayed it long enough. John was riled up with the promise of punishment, and your bulge had been aching since he first told you to wear the stupid thing.

“That’s more like it. You’re beautiful,” he said, rubbing your cheek with his palm and lifting your chin so you met his stare. He was always tender before and after he put you in your place. You’d never tell him that you misbehaved for him on purpose, though by now it was probably obvious. He sat down and pulled you into his lap, then reached over for something in his drawer, retrieving some sort of blue band with his heir of breath symbol etched onto it. He wordlessly began to situate it in your hair, right behind your horns.

“I made this for you. You’re somehow even more sexy wearing my symbol,” he breathed into the nape of your neck, smiling as he started to nibble it and plant kisses. You were sitting on your matesprit’s lap in nothing but a maid dress and headband and you don’t know why, but it felt right. You loved the humiliation, you loved how he treated you, and worst of all, you loved how you looked and felt in this fucking dress. Any second now, John was going to make you forget how to walk straight and make sure the only thing you were capable of uttering is his name.

 But then there’s a fucking knock at the door.

 

“Dude, open up. Wanna return your shitty movies. Gotta give credit where it’s due, though: that McConaughey flick wasn’t as big of a piece of shit I thought it’d be.”  
  
None other than fucking Strider, of course. He _would_ be there at the exact same time you happened to be wearing this; further proof the universe existed for the sole purpose of tormenting you.

“Go get the door, Karkat,” John commanded with this look of absolute fucking _glee_ on his face and you wanted to punch it. No fucking way you were doing that.  
  
“There’s no fucking way I’m doing that,” you growled. “In case you’ve somehow forgotten, _you have me in a fucking maid outfit._ ”  
  
“Yep, I haven’t forgotten! Hop to it,” he said with a giggle. You tried to bare your fangs with malice, but all he did was poke your nose and shove you towards the door. He’d pay for this. Maybe not tonight, but he’d pay.

 

“What in the bull fucking hell makes you so self-entitled to assume that you can knock on Egbert’s door this late at night, _Dave?_ ” you spat, flinging the door open. You were expecting the asshole to immediately do that insufferable snort-laugh of his and follow it up with some stupid comment, but instead, he just stares at you completely speechless, jaw agape.  
  
“If you’re going to just stand there with your squawk gaper hanging open like a brain-dead frog, I suggest you vacate the premises, shitsponge.”

After a bit more staring, he clears his throat and speaks up. “It’s only 7:30. By the way, nice dress, Vantas. I assume y’all are up to some sort of sexy roleplay that I wasn’t invited to. No biggie,” he says coolly, handing you a bag of movies. “Give these to John when you’re both finished with whatever erotic fantasies you’re enacting in there.”

With that, he was gone. You grumbled and shut the door, surprised that the rampaging idiot didn’t actually have much to say.

  
“It was Strider. Wanted to return your movies,” you stated, dropping the bag at the door. John was nowhere to be seen, however. You blinked and looked around.

“John?” you asked the silence.

A pair of hands appeared around your throat. You panicked, and you were damn near ready to knock the fucking lights out of whoever the intruder was. Something cold was now clamped around your neck. You whipped your head around and there was John, smiling like the asshole he was.

  
“What the fuck did you just do?” you asked, grabbing the thing around your neck and pulling on it.  
  
“It’s your collar. Every good pet wears one,” he stated matter-of-factly. “And it’s another excuse to dress you up with my symbol.”  
  
You roll your eyes at him and you’re pulled into his lap again, mewling as he ran his hands through your hair.

 “Karkat, you’ve been so good for me lately,” he cooed, stroking your horns as he played with your hair. You closed your eyes and leaned into his touch, wanting to be good for him always; god, you always wanted him happy. Except when you longed for punishment and you had to misbehave to get him just how you wanted him: that leader you knew and pitied. You needed to be bossed around and you needed him to show you your place: underneath him screaming for mercy.

“You handled this entire situation better than I thought you would, which means you’re getting used to orders. But, dude, I told you not to make me tell you to put the dress on twice, and you did. You also gave me another one of ‘the rants,’” he quoted with his fingers. “So you have to take your punishment before I can reward you.”

You yelped as you were suddenly slung across his thighs, and any trace of dignity you had left evaporated when he lifted up the dress and delivered the first slap to your ass. You forgot to bite your lip, so the moan that escaped was so high pitched it didn’t even sound like your own voice. Your claws dug into his legs for leverage. John paused and examined you for a bit, then yanked off your collar and bound your hands together with it.

“That’s better,” he muttered to himself before continuing with the relentless smacks. “And don’t moan. You need to learn self-control. You’ll be allowed to moan all you want when you’re being rewarded.” You thrust in his lap with every strike, the stinging sensation only serving to provoke your bulge, which was now undulating against John’s thighs through the thin dress fabric.

“Someone sure is loving this,” he commented. “I’d expect nothing less from a slut. Can you even tell me why you’re being punished, or did you just have my dick on your mind the entire time I was talking?”

You whimpered from the loss of that repeated stinging sensation and struggle to turn and look at him, awkwardly positioned on his lap with your hands bound together.

“I…” you began before getting another smack to your ass.

“Funny, I don’t remember telling you that you could speak,” he says, eyes narrowed. Seeing that expression on someone as goofy as John was enough to send shivers up your spine.

You shuddered and nodded in response to his previous question.

“Tell me, then. You can speak now, but it was very rude of you to just assume you could talk like that. Bad boy,” he scolded.

“I… Fuck, I told you to get the fuck out. I deserve this. I need to be taught a lesson,” you gasped, wanting him to shut the fuck up and just punish you already. He had the nerve to call _you_ a tease.

“That’s right, you do. And you’re going to get it right now,” he informed, fishing in his drawer for something. It hurt to crane your neck around at him, so you stayed put on his lap, waiting.

 

The next blow to your ass made you damn near scream. John was definitely using a paddle now, and was striking with abandon at your rear.

“What did I just finish saying? Don’t make a sound,” he scolded, striking you with the paddle harder than he’s done yet.

Your eyes began to sting with salty tears as you cried out, and fuck, you never wanted this to end. Your body convulsed with pleasure with every smack. You sank your fangs into your own lips to stop from moaning, your throat ached with how much you needed to scream. It didn’t take long for you to come to the conclusion that “self-control” was something you never wanted to learn. You let out another throaty, needy moan as you writhed on his lap.

John stopped again. “Do I need to get the gag?” he asked, even though your answer didn’t matter because he was already fishing it out of his drawer and _holy fuck did he keep every sexual item he’s ever owned in there?_

You sputtered as the gag was wedged into your mouth, effectively silencing you altogether. He continued paddling you, and your cries were muffled and barely audible now. You felt your own drool dribble down your chin as you lie there, panting and quivering.

Your bulge could barely handle it anymore; it had been desperately rubbing against John's legs and dampening them with droplets of genetic material (though you hadn’t quite reached orgasm). When he noticed how wet his leg was getting, he stopped and set the paddle down.

“I don’t want you to release from that, because I have more planned for you. I guess your punishment can be over for now,” he said simply. “Do you want to be rewarded now?”

You were conflicted, but you didn’t really give a shit so long as John was pleasuring you, so you nodded.

“Good. Now,” he paused, dislodging the gag from your mouth and untying your hands from the collar and clasping it around your neck once more, “go lie down in the bed for me, legs apart.”

You couldn’t dream of disobeying something like that. You practically tackle the bed; your level of eagerness was probably a pathetic sight, but your bulge was speaking louder than your think pan at the moment and you had no shame left anyway.

John followed you to the bed with a grin. “Eager, are we? You’re such a little whore,” he mumbled against your neck as he began to lap at it with his tongue, and you felt him smile against your hot skin and it made you simultaneously shiver and transform your stomach into a mess of knots. He nestled himself between your legs and continued planting kisses until he reached the end of your neck, then gave your lips a nip or two.

“Did as you were told on the first time. Really are such a good boy…” he whispered huskily as he propped your legs over his shoulders and lifted the dress, exposing your dripping nook and bulge for him.

   
You couldn’t see what he was doing. Your maid dress was obscuring your vision of him as he was underneath it, but you did feel his warm breath steadily approaching your nook, and _holy tap-dancing troll Jesus_.

“F-fuck!” you cried as John’s tongue tenderly caressed the outside of your nook. Your hands immediately flew to move the stupid dress out of the way so you could grab his hair.

He chuckled at that, the vibrations from the sound pleasantly transferring to your nook and making you tremble. You were trying to be a good boy and not dig your claws into his head, but it was becoming more and more difficult as he began to tongue fuck you. Each lick seemed to get deeper, and you unabashedly let loose with every moan and gasp that came to your lips this time without fear of punishment. He had permitted it earlier; it was okay for you to be as loud as you wanted now.

“J-John,” you stuttered, thrusting into his tongue. “Ah, _John,_ ” you chanted, unable to form any other words than his name, drunk with pleasure. You knew that he loved that – having you so deep in his clutches that he consumed your essence. You bucked against his mouth, hands grasped in his hair, eyes closed and mouth agape from singing moans.

He hummed as he worked, his tongue bringing you closer to cloud nine with each slick movement. Sucking, smacking, and moaning were the only sounds known to you for now, and it was perfection.

John sank his tongue the deepest he could get it and moved it in a ‘come hither’ motion, and that’s when your vision blurred and the electric ecstasy coursed through your body. You fell limp, releasing John’s hair and your back meeting the bed with a thump. You lie there in a tongue-fucked haze, and John’s form immediately scrambles to meet yours. You feel him plant several kisses anywhere he can get them and he takes your hands into his, lovingly pressing his lips to your forehead. He pulls you into him as close as he can possibly get you, and the last thing you remember before accidentally drifting off is chuckling at the fact that he’s absolutely drenched in your genetic material. Serves that asshole right.

 

John’s body is sprawled out across yours when you wake up, and you shove the idiot off of you, the movement waking him up.

He yawns and lazily places his glasses on his face, looking at you with a grin. “How’d my Lusty Alternian Maid sleep?”

Was that a fucking Skyrim joke? You scoffed and pushed his moronic face away from yours, rolling over to go back to sleep. It was too early – or late, whatever – to deal with Egbert and his pathetic display of attempted “comedy.”

“You left me hanging,” he huffs in your ear, turning you back to face him.  
  
You were too groggy to argue. “What the shit are you talking about?”  
  
“I didn’t get off earlier, Karkat,” he mentions coolly, playing with a tuft of your hair.  
  
“Yeah, well, now it can wait until later. It’s your own damned fault for making me do this humiliating shit in the first place.” You rolled back over and closed your eyes.  
  
“Or it could happen now because I said so, and you so rudely woke me up,” he said with a gleam in his eye, sitting up and crawling over you.  
  
“Practice what you preach and learn some of that ‘self-control’ you were babbling about earlier, Egbert,” you hissed and pulled the covers over your head.  
  
“I bet that mouth of yours is only capable of giving long-winded, pointless rants,” he dared with a grin.

You proved him wrong until he couldn’t walk.


End file.
